The Price of Ambition
by Cavatina
Summary: Josephine Farley found a diary during her fifth year, unknowingly communicating with the future dark lord. Four years later, through a strange turn of events, she's still in Hogwarts, only during the time of Tom Riddle this time, and trapped in a mix of Slytherin hierarchy, deceit, and, above all, ambition.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling. **

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Chapter One

I walked down the shelves of books carefully, looking for the book I desired. I smiled as I finally spotted the slightly frayed, red binding of _A Secondary Guide to Wizarding Law_. It was on one of the higher shelves, tucked neatly behind quite a few other volumes. I drew my wand from the right pocket of my robes and quickly whispered _accio_, successfully bringing the book into my outstretched hand. However, the book felt heavier than it had the last time I checked it out and the front cover didn't close quite right. I opened the cover and raised an eyebrow in curiosity. There was a smaller black book neatly tucked in before the title page. As I saw my cousin and houses' female seventh year prefect, Gemma Farley, coming over, I quickly stowed the misplaced book into my pocket.

"Good afternoon, Josephine; law again?" she questioned with a smile.

"Yes; I know I should be studying for my OWLs, but I just can't bring myself to," I answered sheepishly.

Gemma smiled knowingly. "Make sure to study, but try not to completely exhaust yourself. I'm sure you'll make both our family and Slytherin house proud." She patted me on the back then walked over to a table of her friends.

I let out a sigh. There was always a sort of tension talking to my cousin— her success was just intimidating. Not only was she top of class and a prefect, but she was dating a pureblood boy with a well-known heritage and everyone knew a wedding was soon coming; my aunt and uncle were so proud. I, on the other hand, was merely a prefect with big dreams. I'd wanted a spot on the Wizengamot, the highest court in magical Britain, ever since I was about five, and there was absolutely nothing I wanted more. Of course, not to say I was extremely confident in my pursuit of that goal, but that was why I was in Slytherin. I certainly had enough ambition and cunning, but I lacked any essence of bravery. I preferred to achieve my goals behind the public eye where my family, my beliefs, and my means wouldn't be judged.

"Are you going to check out that book or not?" I practically threw my book at Madam Pince as she held her hand out for the book, completely bringing me out of my daze. "I want it back in a week," she ordered sharply, her beady eyes looking over the book as though I was going to borrow her first born child for the next seven days.

I held the book to my chest protectively as soon as she finally gave it back, gathered my bag, and sped out of the library with as much haste as possible. Ever since I had kept a book one day late in second year, Pince had been out to get me, and I made a point to avoid her at all costs. I slowed down as I made my way to the dungeons, feeling at home already. The familiar paintings began to greet me, and I made sure to say hello to Ruthel, the portrait of beautiful witch who wore an elaborate medieval hat—she had helped me find the common room many times in first year.

"Salazar," I murmured as I faced the entrance to the common room (a blank wall) just wanting to get to my room and investigate the black book. However, I knew that course of action would be completely stalled as I saw Pansy coming over. I didn't especially dislike students younger than myself, but I found Miss Parkinson to have no redeemable qualities what so ever.

"Josey!" I cringed as her obnoxious voice screeched. I tried to ignore her small frame—she stood at about a bit below my shoulders, seeing as I was always tall for my age. However, she still managed to bar my way.

"It's so horrible! Draco just told me to go away; I know he was probably just kidding (I mean who wouldn't want me around), but still it was so rude!" she whined. I just rolled my eyes and began to walk over to Malfoy and his cronies, gesturing for Parkinson to follow.

"Malfoy?" I addressed as he lounged across a sofa like he owned the common room—of course, his family was quite wealthy, so I suppose that was possible.

"Yes, Farley?" he asked innocently. I could feel his eyes staring very carefully at my prefect badge.

"Please include Parkinson. I have homework to do and certainly not the time for this. Don't make me tell you again." I walked away and began down the corridor that led to the girls' dormitories, looking back every now and then to make sure I didn't see Parkinson following me. Thankfully, she wasn't. I opened the third to last door and walked in to the room. Somehow, I had managed to come in at a time when my three other roommates weren't there.

I took a seat at the small desk near my green four-poster bed and carefully took the mysterious book out of my pocket. As I examined it, I really couldn't believe my luck. I had somehow come across the diary of the rather famous head boy and Slytherin—Tom Marvolo Riddle. I had often done prefect patrol in the trophy room where his name was posted almost everywhere— three times prefect, head boy, a potions award, and an award earned for service to the school in his fifth year. To be honest, the reason why I'd began to look into him was because of his name; Riddle was not a name indicative of pure lineage, that I was aware of, anyway, and, when one was in Slytherin, only those in possession of the names of oldest heritage usually succeeded during their school years. It was odd to say the least.

Now that the Chamber of Secrets had been reopened, as of late, I'd been wondering even more about the strange boy who had somehow exposed a Gryffindor for being the heir of Slytherin. The case was so well documented I wondered as to why no one except myself seemed to see flaws in the story. It seemed blatantly obvious that Wizarding society and Headmaster Dippet were struck for a monster and a culprit and Mr. Riddle had easily provided them. Perhaps, Riddle's diary would tell me all I needed to know and the knowledge to unearth the real story.

My heart sank as I found only blank pages in the diary. I should have known better than to get my hopes up. I decided that perhaps I would use the book as a way to record information about the Chamber of Secrets and its opening. Maybe, it would give me inspiration.

"_Facts Known About the Attacks_," I wrote down in a neat line at the top of the page. I skipped two spaces before beginning. "_It must be someone from Slytherin who has at least one parent with lineage long enough to go back to the founders. The monster must be able to both petrify and kill— therefore, acromantula theory easily discredited. Tom Riddle's importance?_" I paused to look up from the page and rested my hand under my chin to think. What else did I know? I saw something out of the corner of my eye and almost fell out of my chair. My writing was gone, and words began showing up of seemly their own accord.

"_Hello; I hate to disturb you, but who are you and how did you come into possession of my diary_?" asked the mysterious pristine handwriting.

"_I'm Josephine Farley, and I came across this diary in the library hidden in another book. I take it you're Tom Riddle_?" I wrote back nervously, wondering what strange charm could imprison someone in a book.

"_Yes, I am. That was an interesting passage you were writing there; however, I assure you Hagrid was indeed the culprit_," wrote Tom almost immediately after my words had faded away.

"_I think you were mistaken in your judgment. Acromantulas cannot petrify. While I admit, it is plausible that the heir of Slytherin could end up in Gryffindor, the girl's death certainly made no sense. Myrtle herself makes it a point to tell all that Miss Hornby did not find her body until hours after her death. The acromantula would have had plenty of time to properly consume the body's fluids and would have covered it in thread for easier consumption. Myrtle's body was uninjured, besides her being dead, obviously, when she was found_," I replied critically.

"_You said your name was Farley?_" asked Tom after a moment's pause. I took note of how he avoided the previous topic.

"_Yes_."

"_Granddaughter of Gregor Farley?_"

"_Quite._"

"_I knew him at school. Is your family still primarily in Slytherin house?"_

"_Primarily? More like only. I'm a fifth year Slytherin, and my cousin Gemma is in seventh year," _I wrote back quickly, almost snorting at the silliness of the question. My family had been in Slytherin for centuries.

_"I was in my seventh year, last I recall; I was head boy and in Slytherin as well," _Riddle answered. I could almost feel his pride.

_"Yes, I'm aware. I'm a prefect and often patrol the trophy rooms. I discovered your name quite a few times; I must admit I did a bit of research."_

_ "I feel honored. Is there anything you would like to know?"_

_ "Well, really only one thing. What exactly did you plan to do after Hogwarts? Usually those who have such successful years at Hogwarts are able to gain prominent positions in the Ministry. However, your name is very elusive."_

_ "I'm not entirely sure as to why that is; what is your goal after Hogwarts, Miss Farley?"_

_ "You certainly aren't one for answering questions. I'm going to be on the Wizengamot," _I wrote back quickly. Tom Riddle was certainly catching my interest.

_"Going? Your position is assured?"_

_ "Not yet, but I refuse any other result. Before my grandfather made a fool of himself and threw his life away on drink and a disgustingly needy wife, the Farley's almost always had a member on the Wizengamot. I'm merely fulfilling the role my grandfather and father failed to uphold."_

_ "Don't you think that's a bit unfair?"_

_ "Of course not; there is a duty that comes with being pureblood, and that includes upholding tradition."_

_ "Please excuse me for saying, but you remind me a very good deal of your grandfather. He had similar aspirations and ideals."_

_ "That only makes the blow harsher. He had a future and threw it away; so many have less than desirable backgrounds and have to work to achieve respect. He was the first son of a prominent family—the odds were utterly in his favor."_

_ "This is in contrast to you?"_

_ "Not completely, but I have had to work far harder. I'm the fourth daughter with little expected for her future, except perhaps finding a good husband, and they gave up on that long ago. While my parents were settling marriage contracts for my second oldest sister, Eloisa, I was beginning to read about law. I lived in my home's library. I've been studying every book of law I could get my hands on since eight."_

_ "I easily understand how you are in Slytherin, Miss Farley. You are quite ambitious. However, I hope not to offend you, but some would say your goal is rather safe."_

_ "I think not because a spot on the Wizengamot is all the power I will ever wish. I know if I had anymore, I would most certainly abuse it. Power is a dangerous thing for those who know not where their limits are."_

_ "You are wise as well; you could have easily been in Ravenclaw as well from my observations."_

_ "The sorting hat did have a time deciding, but it soon said that my thirst for knowledge was often limited and clouded by my ambition. I will not deny that he was correct. Did the sorting hat have any trouble in your sorting?" _

_ "Not in the least. However, I too enjoy the pursuit of knowledge. So tell me, what is Hogwarts like these days?"_

_ "Not much to speak of. The Chamber of Secrets has once again been opened, and it seems the school will have to be closed. My parents have already contacted Beauxbatons for an available spot. However, personally, I'd rather not take all my classes in French, especially since I'm not exactly fluent. I just don't understand why they can't send our muggleborns to another school. It'd save almost everyone trouble. This school is the oldest one in the world; to throw away that history would be giving up part of the Wizarding identity. But will they ever even consider that? Never. That's why I need to solve the mystery this time." _I stared at the page, infuriated but empowered as well; I hadn't been able to speak, well write, my thoughts to anyone like that before. My parents were certainly out of the question, and my roommates were as well. Lydia Crossage, Demetria Nott, and Allegra Zabini were not known for being girls one wanted to confide their secrets, or anything else to. I felt such freedom.

_"Isn't that idea bordering on isolating muggleborns?"_

_"Of course, but I don't exactly see any problem. It's not their identity everyone should be worrying about. They don't have families who've been going to Hogwarts for centuries."_

_ "No, definitely not. You're a very intriguing individual, Miss Farley."_

_ "You needn't be so formal. Josephine will certainly suffice. I hate to intrude, but would you mind terribly if I asked what Hogwarts was like in your years? Not to say I dwell in the past, but I must admit I would have much rather lived in your time." _

_ "I suppose it wasn't terribly different than it is now. However, I must admit women's role in society was lacking; for some reason, it seems to have taken our world far too long to realize that witches have discovered and done great things. May I ask as to why you desire to live in my time?"_

_ "I like the culture I suppose. I know that's rather generalized, but I admire that people actually spoke the English language with accuracy and care. Not to mention— Tom, I have to go. One of my roommates is approaching. Would you mind terribly if we continued this tomorrow?"_

_ "Not at all. Goodnight, Josephine."_

_ "Goodnight."_

I quickly stowed the diary into one my desk drawers and grabbed my potions book in order to feign reading it as Lydia came in. I gave her a small glance of acknowledgement as she walked over to her bed; she was, by far, the most tolerable of the females I'd had to spend the majority of the last five years with.

"Farley?" she asked, cautiously, in the fashion it seemed everyone in my year spoke to me now. We'd have dueling lessons earlier in the year, and I might have been a bit excessive in disarming in seventh year, Marcus Flint. In my defense, I'd had a horrible day, no one had wanted to partner with me, and Marcus Flint was about as brilliant as a piece of flint. Somehow, Flint still knew dark spells he certainly shouldn't have known, and I was stuck trying to defend myself against the volatile curses and not hurt him too badly—he only ended up with a broken nose, which I thought was rather charitable of myself.

Anyway, I realized I was probably only frightening Lydia more with my blank stare and decided I better answer. "Yes, Lydia?"

"Would it be too much to ask you to perhaps turn out your light? I'm sorry, but I have meeting with Professor McGonagall and I really need my rest," she asked, her voice much higher than it sounded when talking to friends.

"Fine," I murmured before blowing out my candle and going to bed. I sighed to myself. It had always been this way, and I was a fool for thinking that the dueling club was to blame. I never had any clue why, but my peers were always intimidated by me. Perhaps it was because I always spoke with clarity since my first day of classes, I had already practiced magic on my family's estate before school started, or because I rarely did anything but study and sleep. I had originally thought it was because of my name, but my cousin never got such treatment nor did my sisters.

As I lay in bed, I realized I felt rather bad for lying to the diary—even if I didn't know for sure if it was the real person. It hadn't been too much, just enough for self-preservation. I had only lied about the sorting because I hadn't ever told anyone what the sorting hat had said to me, and I never wished to. While it had problems deciding between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, the deciding factor was that it had said I was "destined for great things"—things I could only achieve in Slytherin. While I was slightly elated at finally having something coming my way instead of my sisters' or cousin's, I knew it was nothing to brag about. The "great things" one needed to be in Slytherin to achieve were not things one went about mentioning in casual conversation, or any conversation for that matter.

And the reasons I would have liked to go to Hogwarts in the 40s were simply a matter of opinion that I knew was best to not mention to a near-stranger who I assumed was a half-blood. I certainly was not obsessed with pureblood supremacy, but I had to admit it seemed more like the natural order of things than anything else that purebloods ran society. I wanted to go to the fabled Malfoy Christmas Balls, attend society outings, and get some of the respect I so badly yearned for. All I had at Hogwarts was fear, and it was easy for me to tell the difference. I frowned slightly and closed my eyes against my pillow.

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**A/N: I hope you liked this chapter, and I'll update soon. Please review if you enjoyed it, and I'm always open to constructive criticism. Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: JK Rowling is the creator and owner of all things Harry Potter.**

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Chapter Two

That night, I dreamt of Hogwarts in the time of Tom Riddle. There was little difference, as he had told me, but I actually had people to talk to and who listened to me—it was refreshing to say the least. However, when I encountered Tom Riddle (I knew who he was due to a picture I had seen in the Daily Prophet after he had won the award for school service) he seemed cold and much darker than the Tom I had spoken to. As he knocked into me in the hallway, I woke up with a start.

I looked around quickly, trying to get my eyes adjusted to the dark. I had always been an early riser, and I wasn't terribly surprised when I turned to the clock I kept on my desk and found it was about an hour before sunrise. I decided to open Tom's diary once more.

_"Tom?" _I wrote quickly, hoping I had not somehow imagined my new acquaintance.

_"Good morning, Josephine. It is morning, is it not? I cannot know for sure, but it does not seem like long since you last wrote."_

_ "Yes, it is; I just rose. No one is up yet, so I decided to say hello."_

_ "I was always an earlier riser as well. Would you like to continue our discussion from yesterday?"_

_ "I would, but I really don't recall what I was going to say. By the way, just wondering, how exactly did you get stuck in this diary?"_

_ "Well, I was always looked down upon in my school days; my service to the school was really crowning achievement. There was a boy, Abraxus Malfoy (perhaps you know his descendants), who despised me and performed a very dark spell that trapped part of my consciousness in this book in revenge. He thought it would allow me to become dazed and fail my NEWTs. From the look of things, he probably succeeded."_

I stared at the reply critically as it began to fade away. He was lying, and I could tell. I was always able to pick up on when people were lying to me, and I couldn't decide whether or not I should I call him out on it. _"That's..interesting," _I wrote after a prolonged moment. That whole story was suspicious. Not to mention, in my reading of my parents and grandparents libraries (which were both very comprehensive), I had never encountered a single spell that could entrap another's consciousness.

_"You doubt my story?"_

_ "You shouldn't lie, Tom."_

_ "I suppose you believe I lied about Hagrid as well?" _he asked after a moment.

I glared at the page—he was trying to turn the situation around and put me in the wrong. _"You were lying then as well. Now really, I'm not a confrontational person, but liars and manipulators anger me. Do not prove to me you're one of the two, or even both."_

_ "You have quite the bark, Miss Farley."_

_ "Oh, we're back to this already. I don't give many permission to call me Josephine, and if I do give you that permission, please make use of it. I'm quite aware I can be sharp—as you've probably gathered I don't exactly have many friends." _

_ "My apologies, Josephine. I did not mean to offend you; I was merely surprised. You're acting rather different than you did last night."_

_ "I suppose I should express my apologies as well; I just get exhausted with courtesies after a while."_

_ "I'm very sorry to have caused you so much distress. You do not have to mind courtesy with me. I am just diary after all; I am meant for truths— you have not been completely honest with me either Josephine."_

I could feel my eyebrows raise as my mind peaked with interest. How had he been able to tell my lie only through paper? Did we share a similar gift? _"Quite. I suppose I should start with my reasons for wanting to live in your era. However, I doubt you will read anything you couldn't already guess at. I merely want a time where I'll get some respect. My grandfather might as well have slaughtered our families' name, and I'm stuck now trying to put it back together again. Not to mention, no one understands the term "reserved" these days. If one does not wish to spew out their mind at every possible opportunity, they're looked on as suspicious. Just because I don't wish to gossip at every available moment and have a touch of maturity, the girls in my year, and boys, I assume, believe me to be intimidating and cold. I enjoy solitude but forced isolation is not to my liking."_

_ "My, you grow more interesting every moment, Josephine. I believe we might have been gotten along. However, I'm afraid I really must request something of you."_

_ "What?"_

_ "If I had much choice, you must believe, I really would rather speak to you, but I must ask that you find some way to return me to my previous owner, Ginny Weasley."_

_ "You'd rather talk to that blood-traitor!" _I wrote quickly, enraged. When he didn't respond immediately I became quite afraid I had spoken much too harshly, _"I'm sorry, I spoke with little control. Please forgive me."_

_ "Even the keenest of Slytherins cannot always hold their tongues. As I said earlier, Miss Weasley is not my favorite choice of conversational partners, but we have unresolved business. Will you return this book to her?"_

_ "I suppose I must, even though I will miss the conversation. However, I believe I may have some complications considering I don't even know where the Gryffindor common room is. I could try enchanting it into her bag someday, but that may take a while and she'd have to be stationary—not to mention, I'd first have to locate her. Do you know her usual places?"_

_ "What do you mean?"_

_ "I mean where does she usually go when she's not in classes, besides the common room? For instance, I always sit by the third table to the left right next to the law section of the library. In a school as big as Hogwarts, it's almost impossible not to have a small section that one familiarizes themselves with."_

_ "One would think, but I assure you Ginny Weasley only stays in the Gryffindor common room. You will have to find the password for yourself, but I can certainly inform you of the location."_

_ "That's better than nothing. Where is it?"_

_ "It's behind a portrait of a rather copious woman on the seventh floor."_

_ "Why does it have to be a portrait? How am I supposed to not be caught by the lady?"_

_ "Perhaps the direct approach would not be wise."_

_ "Yes, but I don't exactly have any friends in that house. I could try to gain help from Vanessa Rowley, seeing as we used to exchange words at the occasional Christmas gathering, but it would take weeks to gain her trust enough that she'd take the book, not ask questions, and safely deliver it to Weasley without investigating it herself. I take it you don't have that much time, and I, frankly, would find it trying."_

_ "Time is rather of the essence."_

My mind came to a conclusion I was not terribly pleased with—something I didn't have any right thinking in the first place, if I knew what was good for me. I felt nervous even writing it on paper, though I knew it would soon disappear and never be traceable. _"Well if it's as important as you say it is, I suppose there is a possible solution, but if I got caught, there would certainly be some disastrous consequences."_

_ "I think I have a fairly good guess as to what your answer is. I must admit I didn't expect you to think of such a thing, Josephine. You would really cast an unforgivable curse for me?"_

_ "As I said earlier, I don't have many friends. Really now, it's not as though I'm going to order her to jump off a cliff."_

_ "You consider me a friend?"_

_ "Of course not, I've known you for what? Less than a day? But I don't have many acquaintances either."_

_ "I'm not sure I want to know what you would do for your friends."_

_ "I don't plan on having too many; however, I'll try to tell you when I get one. Well, I suppose this is goodbye. I have to go to class now. You should be pleased; because of you, I was writing straight through breakfast. I hope, perhaps, I may find this book again. Best of luck, Tom Riddle."_

_ "The same to you, Josephine Farley; I'm sure we'll meet again."_

I shut the book somewhat hesitantly before putting on my uniform with as much haste as was possible while maintaining neatness. I straightened my tie while looking over my appearance in a mirror that hung on a nearby wall. My appearance was neat enough with my dark curls twisted in a long braid. I straightened my glasses so they were perfectly placed over my grey eyes. I certainly wasn't a stand-out in a crowd, but, then again, that's what the Blacks and Malfoys were for—they were the face of pureblood society, but families like the Farleys were the brains.

Some ten minutes later, I walked through the door of Professor Snape's classroom for double potions with the Gryffindors, taking my usual empty table in the back right of the room. I did not sit in the back because of fear but rather because I preferred to sit alone. I had always done fine enough without a partner, and I was a creature of routine.

Professor Snape soon began lecturing about Strengthening Solution while my mind began to drift. How in the world could I approach Rowley again after not talking to her for ages? Not only would I have to separate her from her friends, break the law, but then I would have to make her forget returning the diary. I had some serious thinking to do.

"Miss Farley?" asked Snape, interrupting my thoughts.

"Yes professor?" I asked smoothly, an eyebrow raised in polite curiosity. I would never let him catch me not listening, especially considering he had a habit of writing everything he said on the board.

"What exactly is the importance of adding the Griffin claw on the second day of brewing?"

I almost laughed. Out of all the questions, he had asked the one I already knew the answer to. "It absorbs the potency of the set Salamander blood."

"Exactly; ten points to Slytherin."

I smiled. It was all far too easy. When the professor instructed, I continued brewing the Strengthening solution. All went perfectly, from the exact heating to the addition of the Griffin claw. Professor Snape must have thought so as well, considering I left the class having gained 25 points for my house.

After a fairly uneventful charms class centered around disillusionment charms, I found myself sitting at the Slytherin table for lunch, thinking very carefully over my plan. I had my eyes trained on the back of Vanessa Rowley's head, waiting for her to leave the great hall. I would then follow her from a distance where I would wait for her to go down a deserted corridor which at some point she was bound to do, that was if she left the hall alone. I would then cast the curse, give her instructions and the diary, and be on my merry way. As I saw her blond curls begin to rise, I carefully gathered my materials and waited until I saw her l get up from her seat, unaware of what was to come.

I walked quickly as to keep up but slowed when I felt I was getting close enough to be seen. It wasn't long before she turned down an obscure hallway, and all I had left to do was merely pull out my wand, point it at her curls, and faintly whisper, "_Imperio."_

"Stop," I murmured, only loud enough to be heard. Vanessa quickly stopped and turned to face me. I knew immediately why exactly the curse was against the law as I looked into her clouded eyes. I could tell that if I did instruct her to jump off a cliff, she most certainly would without the slightest thought. That sort of power was both enthralling and frightening.

"Now listen very carefully Vanessa. I need you to do me a favor. Take this book," I grabbed the diary out my bag and put it in her outstretched hand, "and put it on Ginny Weasley's bed. If you are addressed or asked a question, you are to act normal but quickly end conversation. After you have done as I have asked, you will forget this whole encounter and be free of this spell. Now go." I was surprised how cold and commanding my voice sounded. I waited until after she was out of sight before I scurried off to the library. I had a good portion of _A Secondary Guide to Wizarding Law_ left to reread.

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**A/N: The next chapter is after a rather sizable time skip, so if Hogwarts age Josephine is really getting on your nerves, you'll find that she's changed some and is definitely more savvy when it comes manipulation in the coming chapters. Anyway, I'd really like to get some feedback, so please review and have a wonderful day! **

**P.S. Thanks to everyone who's followed the story so far!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs entirely to the most fabulous JK Rowling.**

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Chapter Three

Fours Years Later

"Why did you ask me here Dumbledore? You know as well as I that there's a trial starting soon. I can't afford to be late and neither can you," I pointed out as I sat in a rather soft upholstered chair in my former headmaster's office. The man never exactly made me feel comfortable, so I kept a calm and collected countenance, not allowing my curiosity to show.

"Miss Farley, I am aware how much your job and promptness means to you, but this is of the greatest importance. I have a few questions about an incident in your fifth year," he stated calmly, a reassuring smile on his face.

However, I would not be reassured. I didn't remember fifth year in great detail now, but I did still recall a conversation with a diary and my use of the Imperius Curse. What did he want from me? "Go on," I spoke a little forcefully, slightly annoyed at his eternal cheerfulness.

"I take it you know the story of the chamber of secrets from your fifth year?"

"I heard things."

"Well, I suppose I will clear the matter up—Miss Weasley gave me her testimony after the whole ordeal was done. She had been writing in a diary in which the thoughts of an old student of mine, Tom Riddle, still lingered and wrote to her. He possessed Miss Weasley who then opened the chamber. He sought to steal her life and strength and once again become whole. Fortunately, Mr. Potter was able to save her and effectively destroy the diary. Now, my questions come from something Miss Weasley once said. She was quite adamant about saying Tom mentioned you after she had, for a second time, tried to get rid of the book but got it back once more. He seemed to think rather highly of you," he explained, staring at me through his half-moon spectacles. I could feel him trying to subtly pry into my mind to which I employed what little occlumency I could manage to shield my thoughts. Legilimency was always more to my liking.

"I'm afraid I've never met anyone with the name Tom Riddle. She must have been mistaken—traumatic experiences can do that to you," I lied smoothly. I hadn't known the boy for long, but I would not betray him. For whatever reason, I felt I owed him that.

"You do not need to protect that which is long gone, Miss Farley. I am most positive Miss Weasley was not incorrect. I do not mean to make you uncomfortable, but if you will not discuss the diary, perhaps you have some insight into why an Imperius Curse was cast within the halls of the school on the twenty-sixth of May that same year."

I could feel my expression fall. He knew. Somehow, he knew. I inhaled deeply, "The diary came into my possession the day before that. I would hardly say I knew him well. Perhaps we shared admiration for one another. That is no crime."

"Enough admiration that would lead a fifteen-year-old to cast a curse for which the consequence is at least twenty years in prison?

"You really mean to accuse me of casting an unforgivable? Really now, even I'm not arrogant to believe that at 15 I could have cast that."

"There is no accusation about it, Josephine. I think you neglected to consider that Miss Rowley might run in to me during her task. I only let her continue because I knew you hadn't ordered her to do anything endangering herself or others. And don't discredit yourself, you have always been a very accomplished witch. Lying does not suit you."

I narrowed my eyes, feeling challenged. "I'm still waiting for your questions, Albus. All you seem to want to do is make me admit to something you think I've done."

"There's no need to defend yourself, Josephine. I do not think you are a horrible person, and the content of this conversation will stay within my office. I was getting to my questions. Are you aware that Tom planned to find you after his goal was achieved and Miss Weasley was dead?"

My eyes softened—he had wanted to see me again. I found myself, somewhere in the deepest depths of my mind, wishing the little Weasley had died. "No, I was not," I murmured.

"I thought as much. Now, I must know, are you aware of what Tom went on to become after his Hogwarts days?"

"I've wondered about that for a long time. I was never able to find the answer," I replied, wanting very badly to know.

"I should think you wouldn't be able to. There are few who know. Tom Riddle is the wizard known today as Lord Voldemort. He was perhaps more civil in those days, but, make no mistake, the Tom you knew had the ambition to become the monster we know today. I'm afraid you gained his interest, and it is very fortunate Harry was able to stop him. However, it seems I'll have to ask that you put yourself in the same situation you were saved from." he ended vaguely. It was so strange for Dumbledore to have a frown on his face—it actually frightened me a bit.

"What do you mean?" I asked, no longer making an effort to shield my curiosity.

"You, as well as anyone, should know that Tom is mad with power and will dispose of anything that he perceives will prove a detriment to his goal. I have-"

"Why should I know as well as anyone?" I interrupted sharply, straightening up quickly.

"I was merely referring to the circumstances concerning the death of your late sister Catherine."

"She was no sister of mine," I snapped, my left hand clutching my wand even tighter.

"I know you are merely saying this to cover your grief Josephine, but she was your sister. She loved you; don't let one decision ruin your memory of her."

"I'm not a student anymore, Albus, and I don't certainly don't need counseling! You have to understand; she didn't even tell me that she was seeing him. What sister doesn't even say she's in love until your parents are throwing her out of the house? No, I'm not a great advocator for marriage between purebloods and muggleborns, but I would have tolerated it had she just told me," I muttered, afraid to meet his glance. Somehow, my shield had fallen.

I paused for a moment before speaking, gathering any sensibility I had left. "…I'll do whatever you want. Just ask."

"I already have a solution being worked out to stop Tom for good; perhaps it is the hopeless optimist in me, but I still would like to try to avoid killing him. Certainly now, there is no way to convince him to do anything else but kill, but I have in my possession an early time turner. I believed it to be destroyed in the battle at the Department of Mysteries, but apparently it had been checked out by a historian who was cataloguing it at the time. It allows the user to travel back years instead of hours. I must know now, and, please, answer with the utmost honestly; would you be willing to retake your seventh year and try to convince Tom to gain power in the usual way, without causing thousands of deaths? I'm afraid it may be impossible, but I have always wondered."

"If time works in the manner that I am thinking, shouldn't you know whether I go back already, and if I did go back already, isn't it rather evident that it didn't work?" I replied critically.

"There is always a choice. In addition, you must understand that early time turners can go back much farther than those of the modern day, but one must wait to return to the future until they are born in that timeline. It is certainly something to consider."

"Are you mad? When I can finally return, I'll be near 50! I hope you're aware you're asking me to put the best years of my life on the line for a mass murderer," I quipped.

"I know, Josephine. Will you do it or won't you?"

I was almost surprised as the word "yes" came out of my mouth a few moments later. I had certainly been considering rejecting his offer, even though it was what I had always wanted. I would be able to see and, hopefully, help Tom while living in the time period of my choice. What could be better?

The old professor smiled slightly with twinkling eyes. "Now I have some instructions for you. I had hoped you would help me, so I prepared a letter for you that you should give to Headmaster Dippet, a trunk of robes, and the appropriate school supplies. I take it you wish to take the same courses you took when you attended Hogwarts? That would make things easier for you."

"Yes, I suppose so. What is my back story to be? Will I at least be allowed to keep my name?" I asked, in a business-like manner, while I stared at the trunk the headmaster had levitated over to me; I had a feeling he knew I would say yes to his request all along.

"You may continue being a Farley; however, your story must be convincing if you are to fool your grandfather. I have told Dippet that your family had previously lived in France where you attended Beauxbatons until your parents deemed it too dangerous due to attacks from Grindelwald. You are, obviously, posing as part of the French side of your family which at that time, if I am correct, was not on the best of terms with the British side. Therefore, I hope you won't be discovered by Gregory. Do you believe the story is sufficient?"

"Yes, it should get the job done. You are correct about the French and British Farleys during that time. They would certainly not have been visiting one another. You think it will be suspicious if I don't have a French accent? Mine's quite terrible, and I speak little French, mind you."

"I'm sure you can merely say your parents spoke English at home, which is probable. You should be fine, Josephine. Are you settled?" he asked, with a smile as he stood from his desk. I nodded, stood up from my chair, and grabbed the trunk near my feet. I then took the letter he held out with my other hand. "I would suggest standing in the fireplace, and feign that you arrived by floo," he said as he handed me the already prepared time turner. It was only a might larger than modern ones, and I was quite glad it was convenient; I could always just say it was a necklace to those who were naïve enough.

I stood awkwardly in the fireplace, prepared to travel back in time. To say I was nervous was definitely an understatement. "Goodbye, Albus," I said sincerely with a slight smile.

"Goodbye and good luck, Josephine."

I eased my grip on the time turner to allow it to spin freely and watched in awe as the office changed, each second a unique and brilliant scene, like the illustrations from the story books Catherine used to read to me.

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**A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is so short, but it's the ever important transition. Also, forgive me for using the whole time turner thing, seeing as it's not terribly original, but I really couldn't think of another way to bring Josephine to the past besides some sort of complicated spell, and the time turner seemed more logical to me. Anyway, thank you as always for following, favorite-ing, or just reading. If you've got the time, please review and let me know if you liked the chapter or if there's something you think I could improve on.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ belongs to JK Rowling**

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Chapter Four

When the world around me finally returned to general normality, I gathered my nerves and walked into the now very different looking office. The room shape was the same and the back wall was still covered in portraits of prior headmasters, but it lacked the warmth. The color scheme was rather neutral and all the chairs looked rather uncomfortable. I finally walked over near the desk, so Headmaster Dippet could see me.

"Who are you?" he asked, rather taken aback as he happened to glance up from a document of some sort.

"Josephine Farley, Headmaster—if you do not know of me, I presume my parents' prior attempts at correspondence were lost in the post. I attended Beauxbatons for the last six years, but my parents recently moved to England for safety reasons, and they deemed it far more convenient for me to attend Hogwarts. I have with me a letter that explains the situation further and will dictate the classes of which I would like to take this year," I replied, with the usual smile and demeanor I only used for Farley gatherings. "I take it you find it all in order?" I questioned as he read through the letter, nodding ever so often.

"Yes, quite; you seem to be a very knowledgeable witch that would be a credit to this school. Are you aware of the sorting process of this school?"

"I've heard stories from relatives," I answered politely.

"Well then, would you wish to be sorted now or at the Welcoming Feast in the Great Hall?"

"Now, please," I answered quickly. I was not the self-conscious type, but I did not like that much attention. I far preferred to sit and watch from a better vantage point.

"Alright; I'll just get the sorting hat," the old man announced. As he slowly stood from his desk, I thought his long white beard would never end. He wasn't as boney as Albus, but he still seemed far frailer; I could very easily see why he would soon be leaving the school. I sat down in a nearby grey chair that was as uncomfortable as it had looked.

Dippet finally managed to locate the hat and levitate it off a shelf. "Now, Miss Farley, keep in mind all the houses are perfectly good in their own way," he said before placing the hat on my head, so it covered my eyes.

_"Farley is it?"_ asked the familiar voice of the hat within my head.

_"Yes; which house do you choose?"_

_ "I can see there are things in your mind you don't wish me to look at; occlumency, eh? You would make a good Ravenclaw, you know. You have a thirst for knowledge, but wait, ah, there's what I was searching for. Better be, SLYTHERIN."_

I smiled slightly, before carefully taking the hat off and handing it to Headmaster Dippet. He seemed happy as well; if I was correct, I thought I remembered a book saying Dippet had been in Slytherin as well.

"Wonderful, I'll personally escort you to the Great Hall as the students will be entering in a matter of moments; I'll have your trunk taken to the correct room. Would you mind if I announced your arrival before the feast? Such things do not often occur at Hogwarts; although, with the war, nothing seems strange anymore. Don't you agree?"

"Quite, and yes, that would be fine."

The five minutes it took to get to the Great Hall were silent. I didn't wish to be questioned further and Headmaster Dippet seemed to have something on his mind. I was smart and took on an awestruck expression as were stepped into the giant room where all the meals at Hogwarts took place. It was rather miraculous the first time one walked in. The ceiling showed a storm complete with intimidating grey clouds and the occasional strike of lightning. I smiled to myself—I had always loved storms, the sounds of thunder and rain calmed me. I walked over to the far left table with the familiar serpent banner over it and took a seat on the end nearest the teachers' table. It had been my spot for seven years, and I wasn't about to change that.

I was tracing a crack in the table's ancient wood when the students began to funnel into the hall. From the look of everything, it seemed in nearly 50 years little had changed, besides hairstyles. I was given the curious stare every so often but nothing terribly obtrusive—that was a characteristic of Slytherins; we almost always had a good sense of self-preservation.

I was ignored as a group of perhaps third years came and sat in the area surrounding me. I was rather glad for it though. I was going to be introduced anyway, so it saved me the trouble. I clapped politely when each first year Slytherin took a place at the table; I also took the opportunity to look down the table at my peers. There were definitely Blacks and Malfoys—they were always easy to spot, but I couldn't place the majority. I could feel a scowl coming to my face as my eyes landed on my grandfather in his sixth year. He seemed a bit more put together than I remembered in my younger years, but the resemblance was definitely there; his curly black hair was controlled into waves and his grey eyes shone with enthusiasm as he talked to a blond girl who sat across from him: she was probably a Crossage or a Blishwick, both of whom were notorious families of flirts.

I turned to face Headmaster Dippet as he stood to address the student body, "Welcome students, new and returning, to what is sure to be another great year. I remind you that the Forbidden Forest is, as always, forbidden and that Mr. Pringle will be looking for contraband goods for which a punishment is inevitable; if you need referencing for whether or not you have said goods, check his office. Now, I am very pleased to announce that we have a transfer student with is this year. Miss Josephine Farley will be finishing the last year of her educational career with those in Slytherin house. Please make her feel welcome. Now, I believe, it is time to feast. I wish you all best of luck in the coming year," he finished with a smile before sitting once more.

He seemed to be a satisfactory headmaster, but he lacked the sincerity that Albus had always had. I decided to think on it later and began eating the wonderful food that now surrounded me. After a while, however, I became slightly annoyed at the noise that surrounded me. Slytherin table was usually relatively subdued, but the Ravenclaw table, for whatever reason, was incredibly chatty. It gave me a fairly painful, throbbing headache. I wished I could leave, but realized I would have to wait for the first years and follow them or somehow manage to gather an acquaintance, seeing as I would have to feign not knowing where the common room was. I was quite happy, to say the least, when my saving grace appeared.

The girl I had seen earlier speaking with my grandfather walked over and shook my hand, "I'm very pleased to meet you, Josephine. I'm Daralis Blishwick; I'm the seventh year prefect, so if you need any help, feel free to ask."

I plastered the kindest smile I could muster onto my face and spoke sweetly, "Thank you, Daralis. It's so nice to meet you as well. While you mention it, unfortunately, I've got a rather horrid headache, and I really haven't the slightest clue where the common room is. Could you enlighten me?"

"Well, I have to stay here to direct the first years, but would you mind if I gave you directions? I know the school is so large, but I assure you I give splendid directions," she suggested brightly.

I accepted in a polite manner, but wondered what exactly the girl was playing at. Certainly, there were nice Slytherins who could be very personable, but we were all about ambition—I merely hoped that she sought my friendship due to my prominent name and not for darker reasons. She certainly was making a large effort. The only way I could tell she wasn't genuine was the right side of her "welcoming" smile that twitched every so often—that and, of course, the lack of emotion in her eyes, but I had learned that didn't necessarily mean insincerity. Some people, especially Slytherins, got to the point where they had to shield their eyes of emotion so constantly that they simply forgot how to show it. However, in Miss Blishwick's case, I doubted that was the case.

"Thank you so much for your help," I said after she had finished what I'm sure was a very long and detailed set of directions. All in all, I decided I didn't exactly like the girl, but I decided we might as well be acquaintances. She could help me not only meet Tom Riddle, but allow me to learn more about my grandfather's situation as well.

I was glad for the silence that surrounded me on my way to the Slytherin common room. I was a little saddened as the portrait of Ruthel seemed to not notice my presence; it was strange considering I'd greeted the painting at least once every day during my school years. It was merely another reminder that this was not the Hogwarts I was familiar with. I realized with a scowl as I encountered the wall that led into the common room that I should have listened to Blishwick for I couldn't remember the password for the life of me.

However, this was not life ending, considering the Slytherin passwords were never terribly difficult to guess. "Salazar, pureblood, heritage, mudblood, ambition," I listed boredly. I smirked as the wall opened smoothly.

"Impressive, Miss Farley."

As I stepped into the common room, I had to do all in my power to prevent myself from jumping. I hadn't even the slightest notion that someone was following me. I turned abruptly and found myself facing the boy whose picture I had so often looked up in the library—his voice was just as silky as I had imagined. Certainly, I had wanted to meet him, but on my own terms: I hated being caught off guard.

I assumed my manners and polite smile, "And you are?"

"Tom Riddle, head boy. I must admit to overhearing your conversation with Daralis and took note that she neglected to tell you the password. I came to assist you, but apparently it was unneeded," he explained with formality, charm, and a smile just as well practiced as my own. Yet, knowing better, I could still tell beneath all that he was suspicious—he was critical of my means.

"I'm sorry you had to follow me. You see I've heard many stories of Hogwarts from my family—many of whom were in Slytherin. I had a few guesses as to what the password would be. Not to say I do not enjoy your company, but don't you have first years to direct?" I asked, staring into his eyes that were an even darker shade of grey than my own as I did all I could to avoid an abrasive tone. I was determined to make a good impression.

"Daralis will be able to manage until the students get to the common room. Where did you conduct your first six years of study?" he asked curiously. If I didn't know for a fact he was being insincere, I would have believed him. He had control and nerve; I would give him that.

"Beauxbatons; I'm glad to be going to Hogwarts, though. I always did far prefer English. I hope my accent is good," I replied innocently.

"Quite good; however, you could work on your "th's." If you have any trouble writing to the level of everyone else at first, I'm sure you'll catch up soon," he answered with plenty of false sincerity.

I could feel myself starting to bristle. _"Not up to level?"_ If he thought that, he was an idiot. Of course, he was most likely doing that considering I had a brilliant accent and sounded quite as if I already knew that. "Very funny, Riddle. I've had an English tutor since I was five. I took my OWLs in both French and English; I'm sure I'll manage," I reassured, lying with skill I'd worked years to gather.

"I was merely joking, Farley. Now, I believe I hear Daralis and the first years approaching. If you seek to escape the noise for that headache of yours, the girls' dormitory is down the left corridor. You'll be in the last room on the right. It was nice to make your acquaintance," he stated, his manner never flickering for a moment.

I nodded. "The same to you." I then turned around quickly and began to make my way to my room, immediately dropping the obnoxious smile that I hated holding for any period of time. I kicked my shoes off near the bed that had my luggage next to it and took a seat on the soft mattress. I amused myself by performing small transfigurations on the items on my end-table as I waited for my future dorm mates to enter.

I slowly raised my head as I heard the door begin to open. All three roommates entered at once. There was, of course, Daralis; an almost sickly-looking short girl with platinum hair (probably a Malfoy); and a final girl with dark hair knotted into an up do on the nape of her neck who was certainly beautiful but looked rather aloof.

Daralis came up to me first. "I hope your headache is better now, Josephine. This is Pompeia Malfoy and Druella Rosier. You'll most likely have at least one of us in all of your classes," she introduced. I smiled inwardly as I had been right about one being a Malfoy.

"Pleased to meet you both. What NEWTs are you all taking then?" I asked curiously.

Daralis, again, spoke first. Her constant need to be the center of attention was starting to get on my nerves. "I'm taking transfiguration, charms, and potions. I would take more, but I want a position in the Department of Communications in the Ministry and they don't require anything more."

"Herbology, potions, defense against the dark arts, charms, and transfiguration—the requirements for healers training. Even if I don't become one, I think the skills would be very helpful," explained Pompeia, with a welcoming smile. I had a feeling she was quite smart.

Druella waited a while longer before speaking, arrogance leaking from every word, "I don't really need to take anything, considering Cygnus Black and I are getting married at the end of this year, but I thought I might as well continue with charms and arithmancy; I have a skill for it. What are you taking, dear?"

"Defense against the dark arts, potions, charms, transfiguration, and history of magic. I aim to obtain a position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and attain a position on the Wizengamot. There will be three open positions on the council the year after next," I recited, happy that I spent all those hours of reading the Wizengamot's records which included when members left and joined the council. I realized within a moment after speaking that I had perhaps left the barrier of antifeminism unaccounted for. From what I could recall, by 1945 there had only been two female members in the Wizengamot and both had written countless spell books and held a variety of leadership positions. My roommates seemed to be caught off guard by my statement.

Daralis, sensing the tension, sought to add a friendly atmosphere back the room by speaking quickly and with a tone even higher than usual, "That's a very high ambition, Josey."

"It's Josephine, and I usually prefer to just go by Farley," I replied sharply. Daralis and Pompeia would be easy to get along with, as I had already achieved some of their respect; Druella would be harder.

From Druella's next comment, I could tell my previous musing had indeed been very correct, "Now, Josephine, the Wizengamot is no place for women. You have to have an extensive knowledge of politics, and it's difficult to attain a place once you're over the age of forty, let alone 17 or 18. Not to mention, while the Farleys might have been on the council in years past, your cousin Gregory is the expected one to achieve a position; you've haven't any chance really. Look at it this way, you're not overwhelmingly plain; I'm sure with a sprucing up from the girls and me, in accordance with your name and wealth, you can quickly find a husband, and you needn't worry."

I had trouble thinking of what to say next. I didn't want to get on her disagreeable side because it wouldn't be beneficial for me, but I could feel a biting reply just pleading to come out. I decided, in the end, it would be far better for me to "look like th' innocent flower, but be the serpent under't"—I was not well versed in muggle literature, but _Macbeth_ had always been a favorite of mine.

"You make a good point, Druella. Why don't we make a deal? If after this sprucing and lessons, you can land me with a suitable match, I will carefully reconsider my career aspirations," I suggested with an innocent smile. I figured Druella had just enough arrogance and confidence in her skills that she wouldn't dare to refuse my offer.

"I do think we'll make quite good friends, Josephine: pretty, intelligent, and clever. I don't allow many people a Druella Black style reinvention. Now, it must be done tonight, so you can make an appropriate impression tomorrow. Unfortunately, every acceptable seventh and sixth year boy is either already preoccupied or literally engaged. I mean I could to free up Romulus Knott; he's quite handsome—oh don't give me that dejected look; I'm just kidding Pompeia, I'm not going to take away your precious 'Romy.' Oh, I've got it now; this'll really be a challenge. Tell me, Josephine, are you acquainted with our wonderful head boy?"

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**A/N: Sorry I didn't update sooner; my summer started not long ago, so I'm basically just enjoying doing absolutely nothing. Likewise, I start summer classes soon, so updates in the next couple weeks will be fairly infrequent. Anyway, thanks so much to _ThePhantomismyLove _for my first review! It made my day-wow, that sounds kind of sad...eh, anyhow, thanks a ton to everyone whose read, favorited, and followed the story so far! Have a wonderfully, fabulous day! (geez, that's a lot of exclamation marks...) **


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Everything _Harry Potter_ belongs to JK Rowling. I only own Josephine and any other OCs. **

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It was decided, much to my delight, that Druella would find some way to match me with Tom Riddle. Of course, I doubted it would work, but that made everything better for me. I would get a free "style reinvention" and still be able to pursue my career in the face of Miss Black. Not to mention, her ego would be slightly lower if she found she had failed, and I planned to use that against her. The opportunity to gather information was just too good to pass up. Everything was already perfect.

I assume that no one, except perhaps the first years, was sleeping at eleven o'clock that night, but I doubt any room was quite as busy as that of the seventh year Slytherin girls. I had Druella working diligently on my face and hair, Daralis patiently performing a plethora of beauty spells to my hands and feet, and Pompeia deciding what suitable clothing I had and what she would order for me from Druella's aunt's boutique: I was quite enjoying myself.

"So, Druella, tell me what this Tom Riddle is like. I had a slight encounter with him earlier, but we merely exchanged pleasantries really. Besides this sure to be marvelous make-over, why do you think I might have a chance?" I inquired as I sat in a padded chair with a facial rub exfoliating my pores.

"Well, he's top of our class, for one; he's probably taking as many NEWT courses as possible. He's very ambitious as you are; I've heard rumors he may be the Minister of Magic one day. Also, he's charming, as I'm sure you already know, and has a more than satisfactory sense of gallantry and manners. However, he does have a temper. It doesn't often show itself, mind you, but he, as well as all Slytherins, is keen for recognition and success and doesn't do well with obstacles in that path," she mused.

"You sound as though you know him very well," I supplied after a few moments, curious for an answer.

She snorted slightly, "I don't pretend as though I know a great deal, but we were together for a stint in fifth year. He was respectable, but when my parents arranged that me and Cygnus be wed, I wasn't exactly discontented. Tom is one who doesn't easily reveal what he's thinking or what his plans are, and he needs someone who has the patience to understand him. I lack that quality when it comes to men, but I thought perhaps you don't. Have you dated a boy before?"

"I never really got around to it," I replied in all honesty—while at Hogwarts I had been busy studying, and the Wizengamot was almost completely consisting of middle aged, married men: two traits that didn't particularly appeal to me.

"That may be for the better, you won't be constantly comparing him to someone else—and, believe me, he is like no one else you've ever met."

"I know," I murmured to myself. This conversation was so strange—I couldn't ever imagine thinking of Tom in a romantic light, but I had to admit, when forced to think about it, that his personality was unique in a sort of attractive way. If he'd just been a normal boy, perhaps I might have liked him, but, from what I'd heard, homicidal tendencies tended to cause a great deal of strain to most relationships.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing, Druella."

"You know, I think we're finally done. I've enchanted your hair to stay this way until you charm it otherwise. Well, do you like it?" she inquired as she held a delicate ivory hand mirror in front of me.

I was genuinely surprised. She had cut my untamed curls and styled them into a slick wavy bob which somehow managed to emphasize my eyes and gave my face a slim look without being gaunt. I felt quite pleased with her work.

"I very much like it. You've got a superb eye. Thank you as well, Pompeia and Daralis. I appreciate it," I replied politely.

"I quite like it. It does wonders for your eyes, darling. More importantly, I believe Tom will like it. You look intriguing. Well, there's no better spell than beauty sleep; goodnight ladies," announced Druella sarcastically with a smirk as she climbed into her canopy bed and made a show of quickly throwing the curtains closed.

After everyone else had gone to sleep and the lights were out, I sat in bed for a while and stared at the ceiling. I berated my thoughts for soppiness, but for lack of a better phrase, for the first time, I did somehow feel like I belonged and had some respect among my peers. I had loved my position on the Wizengamot, but there was a very large age difference between most of the members and myself, which meant I was often looked down upon and thought of as being immature—it wasn't exactly pleasant. I yawned and found my thoughts drifting into slumber.

It seemed that only moments later I was awoken by the hustle and bustle of my roommates getting ready for the first day of term.

"What time is it?" I murmured as I reached up to feel my styled hair that, as Druella had said, was still pristine. I pulled back the curtains of my four-poster to see all three girls taking great care to look perfect on the first day of term.

"A quarter past seven," answered Pompeia quickly as she tied her long hair with a silky silver ribbon.

"Thank you," I called back as I began to get ready for the day. It was nice to put on the familiar Slytherin robes. There was a certain amount of pride I really missed.

As I was about the leave the room, I found Druella barring my way. "What are those?" she asked in distain with eyebrows raised high.

"What?" I asked carefully.

"You wear glasses?" she asked, emphasizing the word glasses with pursed lips, as though she'd eaten something bitter.

"Yes; is there a problem?" I rebuked, irritated.

"Of course; they're atrocious. Just let me have Pompeia perform a clear vision spell—she's a genius at them. Why didn't you tell me last night? This could have been taken care of by now!"

"Sorry; they're nonnegotiable. I personally enjoy them, and they help me to focus. If it'll make you feel better, I'll only wear them during class, but I refuse to do anything else," I stated coldly.

I was sure Druella was going to throw an absolute fit, but instead she just squinted at me for a while. After a few moments, she stood up straight and fully opened her eyes. "Well, I suppose they could be worse. They still go well with your hair, and they do accentuate your eyes. I won't make you take them off, but I warn you: Tom is _the_ smartest student at Hogwarts. For your benefit, don't challenge him."

"I'll keep that in my mind," I muttered, trying very hard to resist rolling my eyes. In what odd world did wearing glasses equal a ploy to be the smartest student? Of course, I suppose with all the talk the night before, I should have realized already that Druella lived somewhat in a world of her own.

"Good; we should go to the hall. I'm sure Pompeia and Daralis saved us seats, and if they didn't, I've been looking for an excuse to enlighten Daralis about how horrid that dotted hair ribbon really is."

Druella was mean, and, to make matters worse, she just didn't care. As much I didn't want to chuckle along with her as we made our way out of the common room, I couldn't seem to help myself—that yellow and orange hair ribbon really was an eye sore if I'd ever seen one; lucky for Daralis, she'd saved us seats.

I ate in relative silence until Slytherin head of house, Professor Slughorn, passed out the respective time tables, which I then proceeded to examine and compare to my friends'. I had almost all my classes with Pompeia, but had only charms with everyone. I could have gathered that information from when they were all reciting the courses they planned on taking, but the time tables saved quite a considerable amount of time.

"Josey!"

I turned sharply with wand at the ready. When I saw it was merely Daralis, and a very frightened one at that, I quickly stowed my wand away into my robes. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but did I not explicitly ask you to call me Farley, or at least Josephine? What was so important that you couldn't follow a friendly request?" I asked, slightly annoyed as I tried to get my temper under control. Daralis reminded me entirely too much of Parkinson.

Apparently, I had gone a bit overboard because Daralis looked scared, to say the least. That would just not do. I took a breath before beginning again; _I want respect, not fear, _I chanted. "I'm sorry, Daralis. You can call me Josey if you want—I'm just nervous for today is all. It's not your fault. Forgive me?" I asked politely, with the voice I always used when I wanted something; it usually worked, and this time was no different.

"Sure, Josephine, it's alright; you really shouldn't take your anger out on your friends, though. You looked frightening just now. I'm rather glad we're not taking defense against the dark arts together. I'd hate to get in a duel if you can draw your wand that fast," she answered with a quick smile. It was all just too easy.

"Well, I certainly wasn't the worst duelist at Beauxbatons," I replied with the appearance of indifference on the subject. That was the understatement of the year. I smiled inwardly as I remembered the duel with Marcus Flint and his broken nose. I had never been first in my class when it came to dueling, but I was never too far behind. I blamed it on never having had the opportunity to practice with anyone besides a wall. I could cast spells with great speed but weaving in an impenetrable defense had always been a difficulty—I could certainly keep up a shield, but that was about all.

"Daralis, shouldn't we be going to transfiguration now?" I questioned, interrupting what I'm sure was very heartfelt babble.

"Oh yes, of course. I forgot you don't know where the classroom is; it's amazing how well you already fit in. I admire your patience with Druella," she replied as we began to climb the flights of the stairs that led to the appropriate class.

"I don't mind her. She reminds me of a girl I knew a Beauxbatons," I lied quickly, happy as I quickly got her off on a tangent.

"Don't tell her that; next thing you know she'll act as though she can exercise more arrogance due to some sort of foreign mystery," Daralis muttered as she pushed stray blond strand out of her face.

I actually smiled at the deception of it all. Daralis acted a perfect puppet and follower around Druella but seemed so discontented that she would make it known even to a stranger she'd known for less than a day. Oh, I couldn't wait to find out if Pompeia felt similarly. The whole situation was slowly inching towards the edge of a cliff. Perhaps, with more information, I could give it the push it needed to go tumbling. And then, they'd all come to me to piece it back together. Yes, it was definitely worth smiling about—you know, in a clever, manipulative sort of way.

I soon found myself walking with Daralis and a few other students into the transfiguration classroom. It was quite a bit different from what I remembered, and I was slightly entranced by the many animals that seemed to cover the room—tons of birds, a couple cats, and mice (all kept in their respective cages, of course); however, the true beauty of the room was a shining red Phoenix that seemed familiar to me somehow. Daralis and I sat at a middle table, and I listened to her chatter on for a few minutes before Professor Dumbledore stepped in. I had to say I was quite surprised, seeing as I had been somehow still expecting Professor McGonagall. I knew she was far too young to have been teaching in the 40s, but my mind still had not been expecting my old headmaster to walk in the door with a noticeably smoother face and short auburn beard. I took note that I had indeed recognized that Phoenix from somewhere: it had lived on a sturdy wooden perch in his office for as long as I could remember.

"Good morning and welcome, I am pleased to see almost everyone has decided to continue on for their NEWT, and it is wonderful to see that our new Miss Farley has an interest in transfiguration as well. As I'm sure you're all aware of the level of difficulty and amount of work I will have to ask of you this year, I thought we'd start out with some inanimate to animate transfiguration and see who's been taking advantage of the opportunity to actually practice magic over the summer.

"–No need to moan; almost all of you were quite capable of this last year. Simply turn the sickle on your table into something small: preferably a being that's not violent, poisonous, or has an affinity for human blood—please do remember that this time, Mr. Zabini. For those of you that don't remember, this year I expect all spells to be nonverbal. I'll be coming around momentarily," he announced cheerily, before swishing his own wand at the sickle in front of him and producing a small, beautiful silver bird that flew a loop around the class before the professor returned it to normal.

I smiled at the true artistry that went into the bird before envisioning the creature I wanted to transfigure my own sickle into. I considered a hard shelled beetle, a humming bird, and a frog before the idea came to me. I carefully practiced it a few times—once with the verbal spell and twice with the nonverbal, before I was happy with it. When I was sure I would be successful, I decided to glance over at Daralis and see what her imagination had come up with.

I was almost entranced at the tiny frog Daralis had perfected. I had considered the idea, but Daralis had done wonders. The frog's back looked so similar to polished silver; it was eerie. Usually, when a transfiguration had too many attributes of the starting form, it was deemed a failure, but she had purposefully mimicked the almost mirror like shine of the coin to perfection.

Likewise, Pompeia had the smallest snowy owl I'd ever seen perched upon the table which she shared with a fair haired boy who I assumed, by the way she sat with her chair very close to his, was her boyfriend, Romulus Knott. It hooted softly as she stroked its head, and I could faintly hear Professor Dumbledore praising her.

However, all prior showings were easily outmatched by the small silver snake on the desk of Tom Riddle. It slithered a while with a small flickering tongue before curling in a tight circle that melded itself back into the shilling—it was entrancing, and I couldn't keep my eyes off his table that was only separated from ours by an aisle. I was so captivated I was almost caught off guard when Professor Dumbledore finally stopped at my end of the table.

"It's very nice to make your acquaintance Miss Farley; I'm glad you have an interest in transfiguration."

"Likewise, sir," I answered meekly before carefully flicking my wand at the shilling while silently thinking _verto beastium_. I smiled slightly to myself as I looked at the tiny, shiny dragon fly that began to fly in circles around my portion of the table, leaving behind silver sparkles in its wake. As the pile of sparkles grew, the insect began to shrink before it landed in the stack of silver which, once again, solidified into the shilling. If Riddle wanted to add in a charm or two, so be it. I wasn't afraid to come to the challenge and improvise.

"Very impressive, Miss Farley. I'll think you will manage quite well this year," he complimented before going to the table in back of mine and grading a Ravenclaw's snail.

"Did you just make an attempt to outshine Tom?" whispered Daralis with a smirk as she leaned over.

"I would say that qualified as a success, wouldn't you? I don't recall Professor Dumbledore complimenting the difficulty of his display," I replied with a similar expression.

She chuckled, "Druella will be quite angry, you know. For some reason, Dumbledore never comments on Tom's spells, but you weren't supposed to academically challenge him. I believe she wanted you to play some sort of wealthy damsel."

"Well as long as you don't tell her, I certainly won't."

"I'd never think about it, but Pompeia certainly will. She may act scared and shy, but, trust me, she's neither. She and Druella have had a very nice bargain worked out for the past six years."

"Being?" I asked, intrigued.

"It's rather horrible, really—."

I scowled as the professor interrupted her before she could explain. He complimented the class on its prowess and then began a very long and complex section of notes. I vaguely remembered the material, but I felt I still need to write it down. I hated shaking my head when Daralis tried to pass a note in my direction; however, it had always been my policy during classes that I wouldn't allow myself to take part in distractions that could hinder my learning—Hogwarts was too great an education for such behavior. I supposed I would just have to get the information from Pompeia herself during the next few classes I shared with her, perhaps, when she didn't have her boyfriend to sit by.

After class, I waited for Daralis to gather her books; however, Professor Dumbledore gestured for me come over to his desk, and I resigned to tell Daralis to go talk with Pompeia before walking over. "Yes, professor?" I asked curiously.

"I just wanted to comment on your transfiguration, Miss Farley; it really was quite advanced. May I ask what your career aspirations are?"

"I hope to attain a position on the Wizengamot."

"A very interesting choice considering you spent your childhood in France, or so Headmaster Dippet tells me."

I hadn't exactly expected that. Professor Dumbledore was suspicious about _me_. Didn't he know that I wasn't the one he should be worrying about? I made sure to avoid staring into his half-mooned spectacles as I lied. I didn't want to be caught using occlumency on a teacher. "Even though the French and British branches of my family aren't exactly on good terms, I have been to the ministry and other various locations in Britain throughout the years. You will find I am well versed on happenings and the cases the Wizengamot takes on—providing the information is printed for the public, of course," I replied smoothly with a polite smile.

"May I make a suggestion Miss Farley?"

"Of course, professor."

"When trying to convince someone you have nothing to hide, blatant occlumency is not a superb line of action. You have right to hide your thoughts, but keep in mind that constantly keeping up a shield of that magnitude will attract legilimens. I happen to know one that may be very intrigued," he advised with a wary glance as I finally allowed myself to maintain eye contact. He wasn't making an attempt at legilimency. I had only succeeded in making him even more suspicious.

However, I decided that while the topic was already in the air, I might as well make it interesting. "Do you mean Tom Riddle, sir?" I offered, trying to hold back my smirk.

He just gave me a curious look and raised an auburn eyebrow, "I won't say either way, but it is interesting that you would mention that name, especially considering I believe that very same student is awaiting your arrival outside the door."

My face dropped. "Well, then, I shouldn't leave him waiting, should I professor?"

"Of course not—good day, Miss Farley."

"Good day, professor," I murmured grumpily as I walked back down the aisle towards the door. Sure enough, right outside the door was the male in question.

"I hope you weren't waiting all that time outside for me," I commented, trying to trying to hide my discomfort after Dumbledore's words. I had unknowingly attracted the young Lord Voldemort with my undying stupidity. Why was I such a paranoid occlumens? Ever since I'd managed to teach myself the art of closing my mind in my seventh year, I'd utilized it almost always. Now, he was not only interested, but he would surely think I was hiding something.

"Obviously, Farley. Does it really surprise you that a gentleman would wait for such a beautiful young lady with the knowledge that she doesn't know her way?" he replied with a charming smile. If I hadn't known better, I would have mistaken him for being genuine. However, I _did _know better.

"I thought I told you to call me Josephine," I muttered quickly, only realizing much too late that I hadn't yet told him not to call me Farley—not to that Tom Riddle anyway.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken; I don't recall being asked anything of the sort. However, if you prefer Josephine, I'll make note of it," he answered innocently, sweeping a strand of hair that was nearing his left eye out of his face.

"I usually prefer Farley; however, as long as you don't use some completely idiotic nickname, I'm not terribly specific. Do you have a name preference?"

"I would rather be called by Riddle personally; Tom's terribly plain."

I snorted slightly. "And Josephine isn't? For goodness sakes, the magical community is renowned for unconventional names, and yet, without my last name you'd never know that my family's one of the oldest. I bet your middle name's at least something different. Mine's Rachel," I admitted with a grimace.

"But, you are easily recognizable by your last name; you'd never be mistaken for anything _less_," he quickly snapped. I took careful note of the malice filled moment before he resumed his ever-so-polite smile.

"Alright, I make it a point to not engage in fights I have no chance of winning—Slytherin self-preservation, I suppose."

"An admirable trait."

"I like to think so; by the way, weren't you supposed to be escorting me to my next class?" I questioned, trying very hard not to smile.

"Of course; however, I don't recall that any NEWTs meet next beside History of Magic, so perhaps it would be better if I led you to the Great Hall instead," he suggested.

"Does anyone take the History of Magic NEWT?"

"Only one or two students, I believe. Professor Binns is an intolerably boring ghost whose been teaching the class for centuries. I pity those unfortunate enough to take it. "

"No need to pity me, Riddle. I intend to not only succeed, but achieve an O. History of Magic is, by far, my best subject," I quipped with a smirk.

He raised an eyebrow, "That's rather luckless, isn't it? There's not much you can actually do with that class in the world, is there? Unless you intend to earn a spot on the Wizengamot, or something or the sort."

"Rest assured, I do."

"An interesting goal," he answered carefully.

"Not particularly. My family is known for positions on the Wizengamot, as I'm sure you know if you've ever conversed with my cousin. That side of the family does have a terrible arrogant strain," I replied distastefully, keeping very carefully in character.

"I merely meant to point out that the female members of the Wizengamot have been infrequent and few," he said innocently.

"Of course you did," I muttered quietly, keeping my distance as we continued walking.

"You speak as though you do not believe I am genuine, Josephine," he commented with a smile that seemed to border closely to a smirk.

"I'm quite aware I'm no Mildred Thornburg. I haven't written volumes on finding potions ingredients nor do I pretend to have knowledge that no one else possesses. However, I have spent the last nine years of my life studying magical law. I aim to achieve a position solely for that reason. My ideal occupation is not to study dragons in Romania. I wouldn't be _settling _for a spot on the Wizengamot as so many do. The will to do something and to do it well should never be underestimated," I replied with a shrug, recalling the exact reason I had been chosen for a position. My ancestry probably helped some, but there were few who loved and knew more about law than I, and that was used to my advantage.

"It seems we have reached the classroom," he answered as we stood in front of the familiar room.

I smiled faintly as I remembered the lectures that had taught me so much. "Well, thank you for escorting me," I replied as I began to make a move towards the doorway, relieved to finally have some time to think without being scrutinized by Tom's cool stare.

"It was no trouble; I was, of course, going here anyway."

"Why?"

"Did I forget to mention that I'm taking this class as well? I'm terribly sorry," he commented, just the smallest hint of sarcasm dripping through.

"Oh it's quite alright. Quite the contrary, I'm glad you're taking the course. I'm used to being the only student in attendance," I admitted honestly; in my school days, I'd been the only student in the class for both 6th and 7th year.

"I reciprocate," he answered simply, as we sat at neighboring tables.

I laid out my notes and lost myself in knowledge as Professor Binns began speaking with his usual sedating drone. I had always enjoyed the Ghoul War of 1685. My notes weren't terribly elaborate—they didn't need to be. I still recalled the majority of the lesson, and I spent a good deal of the time with my chin resting on my hands, listening intently. I was absolutely amazed at the speed of which Riddle collected his notes at the end of class. Had I not been packing my things in the anticipation that class would end soon, I certainly wouldn't have caught up with him.

"Somewhere to go?" I asked with a smirk as I almost had to jog to keep up.

"Yes actually, Miss Farley," he answered, uninterested.

"Now really, I do believe I instructed you to call me Josephine," I commented further still, refusing to let him go without a conversation.

"My apologies," he replied stiffly.

It was then that I did something rather stupid—I used legilimency. It wasn't exactly purposeful, but I wanted to know where he was going, and, admittedly, I was used to carefully prying into someone's mind when I wanted to know something. I didn't look into their life story or anything, but it was easier and less stressful to get information that way. I merely wanted to know where he was going. I was simply trying to find his thoughts from the past couple hours. I was careful and danced lightly through his thoughts. Needless to say, I didn't exactly expect his brain to retaliate so quickly. I clutched my head in pain as I felt the backlash of being swiftly pushed out.

"Perhaps you should go to the hospital wing, Josephine. You look as though you might have a headache," he mocked, before walking off in measured fury.

I glared sharply at his back as I had to lean against the wall to escape the mental pain. There went any chance I had of staying in his good graces. I could be such an idiot sometimes.

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**A/N: Sorry about how long it's been since I last updated! I just got done with my summer class, so I didn't have time to do any editing until now. I hope the size of the chapter makes up for it, though. Anyway, I'll try to update more frequently now, and thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites! (Also, as little side note, this story isn't going to end up being a Tom Riddle/OC pairing, just in case anyone was wondering. As stated in this chapter, Josephine would perhaps be attracted to him if she didn't know his ambition for the future, but, seeing as she does and has a fairly astute sense of self-preservation, a relationship is out of the question.)**


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